


Alone

by emonemotheturtle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Ginny Weasley, Battle of Hogwarts, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, POV Ginny Weasley, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, scared ginny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 21:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19035619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emonemotheturtle/pseuds/emonemotheturtle
Summary: Ginny tends to an injured girl on the grounds.





	Alone

A high, cold voice that Ginny knew far too well rang in her ears: “You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.”

Ginny looked down at her brother’s body on the floor of the Great Hall.

“I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.”

It was like she had been shot out of a cannon. Ginny started helping the injured immediately--anything to get away from Fred’s corpse. She ran out onto the grounds. There she found another student, a Ravenclaw maybe, she recognized from the DA. In a second Ginny was at her side, crouching over the girl. Ginny started muttering incantations, anything she could think of to help, but the girl had obviously been hit with a very dark curse, and then, Ginny guessed, hit by rubble in the chaos of the battle.

“Mum?” the girl breathed. Ginny almost hadn’t heard it. “Mum, take me home. Please.”

“It’s all right,” Ginny whispered back. “It’s okay. We’re going to get you inside.” She wanted to say more. She wanted to _do_ more. She wanted to help; she just didn’t know how. Frustration bubbled up inside her.

“But I want to go home,” whispered the girl. “I don’t want to fight anymore!”

“I know,” said Ginny, and her voice broke. “It’s going to be alright.”

What she didn’t say was, “Me too.” She didn’t say, “My brother is dead and I’m sure that the boy I’m in love with is on his way to do the same thing because he’s so stupidly noble that he _would_ sacrifice himself to Voldemort.” She didn’t say, “I don’t know what I’m doing.” She didn’t say, “I’m scared.” Instead, Ginny held the girl’s hand and whispered, “It’s going to be fine,” and prayed it was true.

Suddenly Ginny felt like she was being watched. She looked around, but she couldn’t see anyone else in the courtyard. Slowly, warily, Ginny turned back to the girl just in time to see her eyes gloss over.

The girl was dead.

Ginny was alone.


End file.
